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Very Fawnedly Yours
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
EOCostello, 
MercMarten and 
Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)
The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).
Art by
Fluffball
__________________________________________________
Part 47.
Willow:
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and the family sat down to dinner together.
Despite the roaring fire in the fireplace, and the modern central heating, I still felt a bit of a chill coming from the direction of Josslyn’s seat. My father-in-law had come in almost to the second before dinner was announced, and had contented himself with only the barest minimum of pleasantries.
If you could count grunts as pleasantries.
I was very glad that Reggie showed no signs of adopting his father’s manners.
Reggie’s grandfather sat at the far end of the table, thoroughly enjoying himself. Mr. Lavender was not in evidence (“Poor lad’s taken a chill, dear chap, so I left him in our room with plenty of water”), so we didn’t have to worry about that.
The dinner courses were all extremely tasty, with pride of place taken by a type of lasagna that used thinly-sliced eggplant in place of pasta. Gwladys told me that Saturday night’s dinner would be a bit more elaborate. I went out of my way to smile and thank Lord Josslyn for his hospitality. I also took care to use his title.
If he was appreciative, he didn’t show it very much.
After dinner, George asked for his dessert in his room, and was escorted out by Travis. Lord Josslyn seemed to relax very visibly as his father left.
(George had told me earlier that he liked what his son had done to the house, but it still felt too big. I think he missed his wife a bit as well, and I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet her. She sounded like a fun girl.)
Dessert was a delicious trifle made of sponge cake (mine was made separately, without the rum in the whipped cream) and a compote made of strawberries and blackberries.
“This compote is excellent, Lord Josslyn,” I said.
“Should be,” he grunted. “Berries come from the greenhouse.”
“I think it’s wonderful that you set such a good example.”
He glared at me through his monocle, as some of the aforementioned compote had dripped onto his napkin. “What?”
“An example of thrift,” I amplified. “Reggie and I are planning a garden after the fawn’s born.”
Mention of the fawn made him jump only slightly, then deflate a bit as he moodily spooned up another mouthful of trifle.
Reggie piped up, “You know, that reminds me, Willow.”
A glare from his father. “What?”
“Well, we bumped into Lady Pamela Fenwick down at Lincoln Park – “
Josslyn almost gagged on his last spoonful of trifle. “Did you run her over?”
“Eh? No.”
“Too bad.”
“Anyway, she started to argue with me, and we shook paws on a little wager.”
“What sort of wager?”
Reggie explained, and Josslyn’s nosepad looked a bit pale at the prospect.
“How in blazes could you have let yourself get roped into that sort of bet?”
“Well, Father, it seemed the thing to do, after I took her for ten thousand in a boat race. She didn’t want to wager money, you see. And the way I see it, we have a fifty-fifty chance of success.”
“Those aren’t good odds.”
“And here’s another thing, Reggie,” Gwladys put in. “What if Willow has two fawns? Or triplets?”
Lord Josslyn promptly looked like he was about to explode, then he paused.
“Ten thousand? In a boat race?”
“Yes, Father,” and with that Reggie regaled the family with the story. When he was finished, his father actually looked impressed. He even smiled, and laughed.
In a gloating kind of way.
“There’s a reason ‘carnivore’ sounds like ‘carnival,’” he snorted. “They’re both describing clowns.”
“Well, omnivore sounds like omnibus.”
Lord Josslyn blinked. “What of it?”
“Just making the observation, Father.”
“Buffoons, the lot of them. All the energy usually expected for brains gets relegated to their teeth,” Josslyn growled. “And meat. Bah. Makes a fur slow and lethargic between the ears.”
“As opposed to herbivores, who can get slow and lethargic around the waistline,” Gwladys whispered to me, and I stifled a giggle with my napkin.
Gwladys took advantage of a pause in Josslyn’s monologue about carnivores to ask, “Are you having another bowl of trifle, dear?”
“Of course I . . . “ He squinted balefully at her through his monocle.
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
EOCostello, 
MercMarten and 
Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).
Art by
Fluffball__________________________________________________
Part 47.
Willow:
‘Twas the night before Christmas, and the family sat down to dinner together.
Despite the roaring fire in the fireplace, and the modern central heating, I still felt a bit of a chill coming from the direction of Josslyn’s seat. My father-in-law had come in almost to the second before dinner was announced, and had contented himself with only the barest minimum of pleasantries.
If you could count grunts as pleasantries.
I was very glad that Reggie showed no signs of adopting his father’s manners.
Reggie’s grandfather sat at the far end of the table, thoroughly enjoying himself. Mr. Lavender was not in evidence (“Poor lad’s taken a chill, dear chap, so I left him in our room with plenty of water”), so we didn’t have to worry about that.
The dinner courses were all extremely tasty, with pride of place taken by a type of lasagna that used thinly-sliced eggplant in place of pasta. Gwladys told me that Saturday night’s dinner would be a bit more elaborate. I went out of my way to smile and thank Lord Josslyn for his hospitality. I also took care to use his title.
If he was appreciative, he didn’t show it very much.
After dinner, George asked for his dessert in his room, and was escorted out by Travis. Lord Josslyn seemed to relax very visibly as his father left.
(George had told me earlier that he liked what his son had done to the house, but it still felt too big. I think he missed his wife a bit as well, and I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet her. She sounded like a fun girl.)
Dessert was a delicious trifle made of sponge cake (mine was made separately, without the rum in the whipped cream) and a compote made of strawberries and blackberries.
“This compote is excellent, Lord Josslyn,” I said.
“Should be,” he grunted. “Berries come from the greenhouse.”
“I think it’s wonderful that you set such a good example.”
He glared at me through his monocle, as some of the aforementioned compote had dripped onto his napkin. “What?”
“An example of thrift,” I amplified. “Reggie and I are planning a garden after the fawn’s born.”
Mention of the fawn made him jump only slightly, then deflate a bit as he moodily spooned up another mouthful of trifle.
Reggie piped up, “You know, that reminds me, Willow.”
A glare from his father. “What?”
“Well, we bumped into Lady Pamela Fenwick down at Lincoln Park – “
Josslyn almost gagged on his last spoonful of trifle. “Did you run her over?”
“Eh? No.”
“Too bad.”
“Anyway, she started to argue with me, and we shook paws on a little wager.”
“What sort of wager?”
Reggie explained, and Josslyn’s nosepad looked a bit pale at the prospect.
“How in blazes could you have let yourself get roped into that sort of bet?”
“Well, Father, it seemed the thing to do, after I took her for ten thousand in a boat race. She didn’t want to wager money, you see. And the way I see it, we have a fifty-fifty chance of success.”
“Those aren’t good odds.”
“And here’s another thing, Reggie,” Gwladys put in. “What if Willow has two fawns? Or triplets?”
Lord Josslyn promptly looked like he was about to explode, then he paused.
“Ten thousand? In a boat race?”
“Yes, Father,” and with that Reggie regaled the family with the story. When he was finished, his father actually looked impressed. He even smiled, and laughed.
In a gloating kind of way.
“There’s a reason ‘carnivore’ sounds like ‘carnival,’” he snorted. “They’re both describing clowns.”
“Well, omnivore sounds like omnibus.”
Lord Josslyn blinked. “What of it?”
“Just making the observation, Father.”
“Buffoons, the lot of them. All the energy usually expected for brains gets relegated to their teeth,” Josslyn growled. “And meat. Bah. Makes a fur slow and lethargic between the ears.”
“As opposed to herbivores, who can get slow and lethargic around the waistline,” Gwladys whispered to me, and I stifled a giggle with my napkin.
Gwladys took advantage of a pause in Josslyn’s monologue about carnivores to ask, “Are you having another bowl of trifle, dear?”
“Of course I . . . “ He squinted balefully at her through his monocle.
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 500 x 669px
File Size 486.1 kB
Listed in Folders
He's a cranky old stag, for sure. But Gwladys sees something in him, so he apparently does have his good points. And even if he doesn't have the instinctive feel for it, he's learned to take care of his employees.
At least the ones who don't come into direct contact with him on a regular basis.
At least the ones who don't come into direct contact with him on a regular basis.
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